


Ashes

by doctor__idiot



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: 4x14 "Derailed", Barebacking, Bottom Mike, Episode Related, M/M, Spit As Lube, Top Harvey, but not really, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The knock on the door was sharp and short and Mike opened with a grin. “Heyah, Harvey! Your date ditch you or did you just miss me that much?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the events of 4x14. 
> 
> I wanted to leave it open whether this is their first time or not. Decide for yourselves. The layout of Mike's and Rachel's apartment is probably different from what I wrote. I was too lazy to check, though.
> 
> Disclaimer: The idea is mine. Unfortunately, nothing else is. Unbeta'd.

The knock on the door was sharp and short and Mike opened with a grin.

“Heyah, Harvey! Your date ditch you or did you just miss me that much?”

Harvey barged into the apartment, charging like the proverbial bull at the red flag, and grabbed Mike by the labels of his loosened up dress shirt. He hardly noticed the spill of beer onto his suit.

“Whoa, what the hell?” Mike managed to put the bottle onto the kitchen counter before any more accidents happened.

“Did you know about Donna?” 

Harvey’s voice was oddly calm. Merely the shaking of his hands gave him away. They clenched the white fabric so tightly he could feel them cramping.

The color drained from Mike’s face and Harvey’s rage flared. With a roar he shoved Mike against the wall, hands still by the man’s throat.

Mike’s back collided with the wall and he made a noise that was part pain part surprise.

“Do you realize what this means? For the firm? For Donna?”

Harvey was nearly shouting at him even though they were only inches apart and Mike winced. His hands came up to grab at Harvey’s, trying to pull him away from his throat.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Harvey shook him now, not caring about the unhealthy crack that sounded when Mike’s head hit the wall hard. Mike groaned, his fingers going slack, now just loosely resting against Harvey’s wrists.

“I didn’t do- Donna only told me after. Harvey, I had no idea.”

“She wouldn’t just do something stupid like that with no reason. She doesn’t meddle. Not until there’s no other…” Harvey trailed off, the anger in his eyes almost boiling over.

Mike swallowed. “She did it for me. You- You only gave me a day and I was out of my depth and I might have sounded and looked pretty desperate when she came into my office. But I never wanted her to-“

“Fucking hell, Mike. Can’t you do anything by yourself?!” Harvey wasn’t being fair and he knew it. He was too angry to care, though. “I fucking told you! I should have put an end to this earlier, I shouldn’t even have let you take the goddamn case in the first place.”

Mike went quiet and while his body was rigid, he wasn’t trying to fight Harvey off.

“Where’s Donna now?”

“She and Rachel went out to get drinks. Celebrate.”

Harvey nodded sharply. “I need to find a way to fix this. Because if I don’t, Donna is in deep shit.”

“No,” Mike shock his head, “I need to do this. I got her into this, I need to-“

Harvey tightened his grip, his eyes blazing. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re the problem! You fucked up! I fix your fuck ups, that’s what I’ve always done.”

Jotting his chin out, Mike met his gaze. They both knew things were being said in anger, half-truths were being twisted and full truths exaggerated, but there was something in Mike’s eyes that spoke of defeat.

There was also defiance there, however, and when he surged forward and kissed Harvey, it tasted like a challenge.

“I’m not done with you.” The growled protest was half-assed and belied by Harvey’s hands that took hold of Mike’s shoulder to keep him pressed against the wall, Harvey himself pressing against him in a long line, a knee between Mike’s thighs.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There was no point in undressing. Harvey just unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his dress pants and before ripping Mike’s pants and briefs down over his narrow hips, barely remembering to undo the zip. The fabric pooled around Mike’s socked feet.

Their kiss was all teeth and Harvey bit down on Mike’s lower lip, a little too hard to be playful. Mike flinched but opened his mouth anyway when Harvey pressed two fingers against it. 

He sucked them in without waiting for the request, keeping his eyes focused on Harvey’s, a mischievous glimmer around his pupils.

The thought that neither of them should be enjoying this as much as they were briefly popped into Harvey’s mind but vanished before he could evaluate his actions further.

He dragged his fingers from between Mike’s lips and the wet sound it made was practically obscene.

Mike didn’t even need to be told. He kicked his pants to the side and readily hitched one of his legs onto Harvey’s hip, twisting his foot around the back of Harvey’s knee, kissing him again.

One finger, then two too quickly, but Mike never protested, only tightened his grip around Harvey’s shoulders and deepened the kiss, biting down a little in retaliation.

The burn of the stretch never lessened but it was overshadowed in pleasurable intervals when Harvey unerringly found his prostate, Mike arching against him.

Before long, Harvey drew back, ignoring Mike’s whimper that was equal parts disappointment and discomfort.

“On your knees,” he said and it wasn’t quite an order but Mike knew better than to comment. Harvey thought the easy obedience shouldn’t be this arousing. Neither should the picture of Mike on the floor before him.

“And do it properly because it’s all the lube you’re getting.”

Mike lifted one eyebrow. “Is this my punishment?”

“No.” _Possibly._

Without hesitation, Mike tucked Harvey’s pants under the swell of his ass, taking his cock into his hand and then into his mouth. Tonguing around the tip, he smeared saliva together with precome before swallowing down the near entirety of the shaft.

The grip of Harvey’s fingers in his hair were little pinpricks in his scalp but he put up with it until Harvey ordered him to get up and turn around.

Hands gripped his sides, creasing his shirt, pressing him stomach-first into the wall. Mike turned his head, cheek smushed into the rough wallpaper.  
He clenched his teeth when Harvey entered him with little finesse. There hadn’t been enough prep and there wasn’t nearly enough lube but Mike didn’t move away, didn’t even flinch.

He breathed evenly, relaxing against the burn, the tug and drag of every thrust. A small moan escaped him that was neither pleasure nor pain and he pushed back as much as he could. The sound he dragged out of Harvey with that was nothing short of addicting.  
He reached back but Harvey grabbed his hands. He pushed them against the wall, lacing their fingers, but there was nothing romantic about it. His grip was too tight and Mike’s palms scraped over the wall.

Mike wished he could feel Harvey’s naked skin against his, but as they were only their sweaty shirts brushed against each other. He also wished he could get a hand on his cock because he was aching for some sort of additional stimulation and the wall really wasn’t his first choice. Or his second, or his third.

He didn’t think Harvey would let him, though, so he stayed put.

His breath hitched with every brutal thrust and the lines between anger and arousal, between pain and pleasure, blurred for the both of them. Harvey buried his face in the side of Mike’s neck, breathing wetly against the skin and biting down on the tendons in Mike’s shoulder.  
He did it in time with his hard strokes, insistent pressure on Mike’s prostate, and elicited little whimpering noises from Mike even though he tried to keep mostly quiet.

They reached their orgasms like that, almost simultaneously and with equal intensity.

 

Harvey had neatly zipped, buttoned, and buckled himself, and there was a frown on his face when his eyes skimmed over the top of Mike’s head. Mike who had dropped onto the couch, physically and mentally exhausted, with his pants pulled up but undone.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“S’okay,” Mike shrugged, “Not like I couldn’t have stopped you. I just feel like shit for cheating on Rachel.”

Harvey startled and Mike quickly reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “That’s on me, not on you.”

It appeared they were both still living with the ghosts of their parents, dead or not.

Mike sighed heavily and wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. “I would kill for a cigarette right now.”

“Hm.” Harvey’s eyes were unfocused, looking out the window.

Silence. Then, “What are we going to do?”

“We?”

“Harvey, I can’t just sit on my hands. Besides, we’re at our best when we’re together.”

Mike winced at his own words but to his surprise Harvey nodded. “Yeah. I’ve noticed. I’m sorry about what I said, by the way.”

Neither of them were sure about what exactly that entailed but it hardly mattered. None of Harvey’s words, good or bad, could make Mike feel any more or less of a fuck up. He had always been his own hardest critic.

“It’s okay,” he said hollowly and that was that.

He thought of Donna and that her only fault was that she loved them too much.


End file.
